


the hanged man shouts

by graphene



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alpha Julian, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Off-Screen Murder, Tags will be updated as the story progresses, omega asra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28754220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graphene/pseuds/graphene
Summary: The world is harsh as it is, it's even harsher for men like Asra.With his lover and mate convicted of murder and treason, he has no one close to him to protect him, and Vesuvia can be unforgiving towards omegas left on their own. To make matters worse, Asra isn't just a single omega - he's pregnant on his own.
Relationships: Asra/Julian Devorak
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if you think you've read this before - you have! i deleted my old ao3 a while back and i've decided to be back just to update unfinished fics and write the things i want x

It was strange, Asra thought, he had not liked melon much until recently. Now it was like he could not get enough of it

He bit into a slice, juice trickled down his hands and onto his clothes. The juice soaked through the fabric, making it cling to his unusually, but still only slightly, rounded belly. Perhaps he had eaten too much lately - stress eating would not be out of the ordinary. It would be a reasonable response, he reasoned, these last few months had been the most trying in all his life.

He stood up and stretched. The pale sun of the morning leaked through the closed curtains of the shop, casting pretty bursts of light over the stone floor; his apprentice would be awake soon.

He had been up since before dawn, rudely disturbed by both hunger and nausea. Instead of wallowing in another lonely morning of self pity, he had put himself to work. His apprentice, Effie, would be having her heat soon, and he knew she hated them viciously - it was all he could do to prepare a solution that would temper it for her, and make it just a bit more bearable. After all, neither of them wanted alphas skulking near the shop, eager to try and get a taste of an easy omega.

Asra sat down by his table, fruit and bread neatly prepared for breakfast. With a soft groan, Effie plopped herself down in front of him, her curly dark hair tangled and messy.

“Mooornin’,” she yawned, and helped herself to a slice of bread.

She stared at the table for a long time, frowning like she tried to comprehend what she saw.

“Asra…” she said. “There’s only melon here.”

He flushed and coughed slightly. He had not noticed this, he realised, his own cravings had decided to control both him and his apprentice’s breakfast.

“I… don’t have an excuse,” he tried to smile it off to her. His heart, for some reason, was hammering in his chest.

“It’s okay,” she said, shrugging. “You just used to hate melon is all.”

She walked over to the small kitchen they shared and opened a cupboard. She took out a small jar and brought it to the table, a smug smile on her face. Opening the jar, a sour and tart smell filled the air. Recently, Asra had started to hate Effie’s taste for pickled preserves.

His stomach felt like it was jumping into his throat, a strong wave of nausea overcame him. Ugh. This also happened around her preserves, his stomach had also decided it could not _bare_ it. He hurriedly made his way to the bathroom and bent over the low toilet. He was glad his hair was short in these moments, the last thing he wanted to deal with was vomit in his hair as well as it coming out of his mouth. Stress must really be getting to him; the weight gain was getting worse, but luckily, though he was not sure this was _real_ luck, his nausea was no where near as bad as it used to be.

He sat on the bathroom floor, wiping his mouth and feeling decidedly more irritable than normal. Was his life really that determined to make him miserable?

“Asra,” he heard Effie say.

He looked up at her. She stared down at him, her gaze soft and worried, her hands clasped in front of her skirts. She knelt down next to him, placing a gentle hand on his knee.

“We need to talk,” she said.”

“What about?” He muttered.

“This.”

“There’s nothing _to_ talk about.”

“I know it’s scary but… Asra you’re not stupid. I know you know what’s going on with you.”

He stiffed. He hoped against himself that she would not dare say what he thought she might be hinting at.

“You’re pregnant,” Effie whispered.

No. No, no, no!

Asra choked. He was not, he _could not_ be, there was no way…

Cold curls of dread crawled up him, lacing their way around his stomach and chest. He stood up and dashed past her into his own tiny bedroom. He fell onto his bed, finding relief and comfort in his bedsheets. God. God there was no way he could be _pregnant_. He had not had an alpha in his bed for so long, not since his had left those five months ago.

_Ilya…_

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to try not to think of the man who had left. He knew that he had to leave - God if he had stayed he would be dead by now. He would be executed and tortured and humiliated and punished and and and -

Asra stopped himself. He placed a hand over his belly, feeling the small swelling, trying to imagine a tiny Ilya growing inside him. A baby that was both of them, a piece of evidence of the love they held for each other.

His last heat had been just over five months ago. Ilya, of course, had been with him. They had shared each other’s heats and ruts for a long while before then, they had said ‘I love you’s’ and made promises to one another. Ilya’s ring had passed over Asra’s slender fingers, his lips had pressed to his belly. A promise, Asra knew, of the future they wanted together.

Then the flames had engulfed the Count and all hope of their future had burned with him.

_Ilya, Ilya._

Asra longed to see him just one more time. To feel his arms around him and that smirk to press kisses against his neck, to the bond mark that burned just as bright as it always had. He wanted him home. He wanted Ilya in the same bed he lay in now. Instead of tears that stained his cheeks, he wanted Ilya to hold him, kiss him and tell him how much he loved their baby already. Instead, his bed was frightfully cold and their baby was growing alone in his womb, likely to never know who their father was.

He ran his hand over his bump and sat upright.

He would not, he _could not,_ let this situation run on; justice he decided, must lay her cold hand on the shoulder of whoever was responsible. Perhaps it was a snap decision, he did not know who really killed the Count; but whoever it was - if it was not Ilya - would pay the heavy price the Countess had placed on his love’s head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where is ilya and what will asra do?

It was all well and good saying he would bring justice around, but actually doing it would be, quite frankly, near impossible.

For starters, Asra simply had no clue where Ilya could be. How could he help man who seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth? Second of all, his old friend, Nadia, was the very same Countess who wanted to execute Ilya; so there was no help to be gained from her, she did not even know they had been mates. He supposed Effie could help him, but her memories were sparse and the last thing he wanted was her getting into trouble as well.

It looked like it would just be him facing this impossible task.

 _Four months until the baby was born._ It seemed like such a long time to Asra, a third of a year would pass before he held a tiny Ilya in is arms. Yet, he knew logically that four months was hardly any time at all. It gave him very little time to try and clear Ilya’s name and bring their family together.

He sighed irritably. Maybe he was trying to rush things a little, normally he would not be so hurried and he could take things slow, he could make a solid and effective plan. He knew, subconsciously, that it was a quiet desperation to have his alpha with him. Acknowledging that he was pregnant had set all instincts he possessed on edge. Frustrating. He had spent so long controlling his own instincts and feelings that it was difficult to let go, especially, he knew, as this was not entirely voluntary.

The shop was warming up and voices could be heard outside. Vesuvia came alive quickly in the mornings, people filled the streets and their noise clamoured. Despite so many people dying from the plague, the people of the city had a quiet determination to not let it effect them. Life and business carried on with more force than it ever had before.

Asra walked out of his bedroom. Effie stood anxiously outside, her dark eyebrows drawn together in worry and her hands wringing together. He looked at her, fondness filled his chest for her, and in that moment he could have cried out of love. Out of everyone he had left in the world, he was glad Effie was the person with him.

She hovered near him, gently placing a hand on his arm.

“Asra?” She said.

She looked up at him from under her fringe, warm blue eyes gazed at him intensely.

“I’m okay,” he smiled. “How about we go get pumpkin bread?”

Effie grinned at that. All her usual bounce sprung back, and before he could catch his breath, she had tied her hair up in a messy ponytail and slipped her shoes on.

“You know pumpkin bread is my favourite lover,” she laughed at his shaken expression.

Asra smiled softly, “And I know how you like to call everything your lover.”

“Well someone has to be!”

She winked at him and ran out the door, purple ribbon fluttering from her hair behind her. God, he was so very fond of her. Despite the fact she used enough energy to power half the population and still have some leftover for herself. If his baby was anything as delightful as Effie, he would be a very proud and happy parent indeed.

He slipped his own shoes on and picked up his bag - one of them needed gold to pay the baker after all.

Outside, the sun was warm and heavy already. It was going to be a scorching day, he realised. Summer was almost here in full force, and it was going to be a burning one this year; Asra grimaced, it was going to be extremely unpleasant to carry a pup in hotter heat than this. Obviously noticing his discomfort, Effie grabbed his hand and smiled at him again. She pulled him with her through the throngs of people, quite determined to make it to the baker’s before the pumpkin bread made it out the oven. She liked it as hot as possible, even on days like this.

They had made it to the market just in time. The baker noticed them, his lined face cracking into a wide smile at the sight of them together.

“Asra! Effie! Come, come! I have your favourite bread just out the oven!” He called them over jovially.

Effie jumped and sat down heavily at a table. She was all smiles and dimples as she babbled to the baker and his apprentices; she had always been gregarious, and it made him happy to know she had so many friends in the city.

The baker brought over a steaming place of pumpkin bread. The cinnamon and other spices wafted up Asra’s nose and made his mouth water. Taking a knife he spread a slice with a thick layer of butter, savouring how it melted and soaked into the bread, he knew exactly how heavenly it would taste.

“Have as much as you want,” the baker said. “You’ll be eating for two in your condition.”

Asra flushed red and placed a hand over his belly, though he knew it was foolish to try and hide it when his scent likely gave it away more than any physical changes did. The baker looked at him softly, and placed a kind hand on his fluffy hair.

“Everyone will be eager to meet your little one when they’re born, don’t you worry. Me and my husband in particular,” he stroked Asra’s hair. “And this is on the house. No arguing!”

He teared up slightly. He felt, slightly, that he did not deserve such kindness as this; but in his heart, deep within his quiet soul, Asra felt a little less alone in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor asra


End file.
